gradually, then suddenly
by missing-in-venice
Summary: "When his fingers brushed mine through the bars, I knew that being stuck in here, with Damon, was probably the worse possible thing that could ever happen." Set in late Season 4. D/E.
1. the thing you're fighting

**_"Being against evil doesn't make you good. Tonight I was against it and then I was evil myself. I could feel it coming just like a tide... I just want to destroy them. But when you start taking pleasure in it you are awfully close to the thing you're fighting." -Island in the Stream, Ernest Hemingway_**

_gradually, then suddenly_

Something was dripping. _Drip drip drip. _Over and over again. Each time the tiny drop hit the floor, it set off a nerve in my already pounding, heavy head. Everything hurt. The blood flowing through my veins felt like it was on fire. My throat was throbbing, demanding attention. My fingers blindly scrabbled at a cement floor as I peeled my eyes open, the dusty air burning them. I shoved myself up, leaning heavily against the wall and looked around the dimly lit area.

It was some sort of cellar, the bars in front of me were the obvious sign. As I squinted my eyes, I expected to see a door on the other side or stairs leading up, but all there was was another part of the room. I crawled over to them, letting my hands wrap around the bars and immediately spied a mess of raven hair and long eyelashes set on a pair of closed eyes. _Damon_.

He was laying on a small, waterstained cot, looking like he was in a vervain-induced coma. I helplesssly looked over him for any sign of wound or blood, desperately wishing I could shake him awake and ease both me and himself, but there was no way to the other side. The gate had a heavy lock attached to it, a large key hole set in the middle. I didn't understand this room; what was the point of having a cellar with bars in the middle, dividing the room in two? But more, I didn't understand what we were doing here. Or why. I shut my eyes, scoring my memory for what I last remembered. I was in my car... going to the boarding house... to see Stefan. Yes! Wait, no. Not to see Stefan. To see Damon? Or was it to see Stefan? Or maybe it was just to get blood? No, it had to have been to see Stefan. What did I need to see Damon for? I pushed that part away, knowing that I was going to the boarding house for something. I pulled up in the driveway... got out of my car... and then I was hit. With a bullet. A wooden bullet? And then... a face looming over me; a black face. Connar; the hunter. And then nothing.

I swore under my breath as I looked around again, desperately seeking a door. Finally, behind me, sat a big metal and bolted door, not unlike one in the Salvatore basement. I forced myself to my feet, ignoring the dizzy feeling that washed over me and immediately tried the handle, not surprised when it didn't budge. Frusteration and hunger bubbled through my as I walked back to the bars and sank against them and turned my attention back to Damon helplessly.

He looked out cold. There were small, bullet shaped holes rimmed with dried blood on his blue shirt, and as I studied them a wave of worry and hopelessness washed over me. "Damon." I called out, my voice hoarse and strained. I cleared it, ignoring the aching need for blood that seemed to swell up in every inch of my body at the dryness of it and tried again, "_Damon._" Nothing.

I looked around for anything I could throw at him, and spotted a small rock in the corner. Huffing, I picked it up and threw it through the bars, watching it hit his shoulder and tumble to the floor. Finally, he stirred and almost immediately his eyes snapped open. I sighed, relieved.

"Elena?" he asked, eyebrows pulling together as he rubbed his head and sat up, eyeing me over the same way I did to him. Seemingly relieved at what he found, he sat back. "You okay?"

"Yea. You?" I asked, and he nodded once. I watched him look around, taking in the bars and the door and watched the pieces click together in his eyes. He groaned, more from the situation we were in then from the massive headache he probably had. "I am going to kill that little shit. I should have done it while I had the chance." he turned his eyes towards me, almost accusingly. "_You _shouldn't have stopped me."

The worry that was churning through me quickly turned to annoyance at the tone in his voice and I glared at him through the bars. "This isn't my fault." I said, ignoring that voice in my head that corrected me that it was, indeed, my fault for convincing Damon to not kill Connar weeks before. Of course, Damon being Damon, immediately saw through me and he scoffed.

"What does he want with us, anyways?" I asked. There were other vampires in town; there was a whole family of Originals playing house in a mansion while sipping English tea and painting masterpieces, and yet he chose to lock Damon and I in a cellar together. And then there were bars seperating us; why? Questions ran through my mind at rapid pace, almost in tune with Damon's pacing as he wandered about his side of the cell.

"My guess is he went to the boarding house and we were the only ones there." Damon said distractedly. He was leaning against the bars, his face pressed against it as he tried to peer through the door's window on my side.

"But _why?" _

"Elena- I don't know." he sighed, exasperated. When it became clear that there was nothing to see on the other side of the door but darkness, Damon turned around and stalked back to the cot, sitting on it with a huff. "Well, at least I get the bed." he said sarcastically, eyeing the stained mattress with disdain. I recognized his attempt to distract both of us and sat back, prepared for his onslaught of sarcastic remarks. "And-" he continued thoughtfully, looking at me, "At least I'm stuck in here with you and not Caroline." He mock shuddered. "Or, God forbid, _Stefan. _Ugh. Talk about brotherly bonding."

I rolled my eyes and looked away, drawing my attention towards the leaking pipe on the other side before he spoke again. "But I'm sure _you_ wish it was Stefan in here instead of me."

My eyes snapped back to him, where he was watching me, almost apprehensively. His typical Damon-conclusion didn't surprise me at all, and in a way, he was right. Being trapped in here with Stefan probably would be easier. I didn't want to think about being stuck in a cell with Damon for God knows how long. Not because he was cynical or sarcastic or so damn _infuriating _but because I didn't know what being stuck, this close to Damon without a place to hide or the excuse to Stefan would do to my mind, or let alone, my heart.

As usual, I pushed all of this aside to think about later and looked him in the eye. "I don't want to be in here in the first place, Damon."

Before he could reply, we both heard a pair heavy boots stomping down the hall outside the cellar. Immediately, Damon was by my side, as close as he could get before the bars seperated us and I pressed against them. Expecting to see Connar's face appear through the door, we were dissapointed when all we saw was a hand shove a bundle of red and plastic through the bars. The blood bag fell to the ground with a dull _thud _and immediately, I had the bag clutched it my hands. The area around my eyes grew hot and I could feel the veins throb in my skin. Then, I remembered the other hungry vampire in the room and the situation we were in and I immediately let it drop back to the ground. Ashamed, I looked towards Damon.

"You should drink it." he started, looking from me to the bag. "The door is on your side, so if he comes in you'll need your strength." It made sense, but somehow I doubted Connar would be dumb enough to barge in here, unprotected. And I wasn't sure if I could just... snap his neck like I've seen Damon do so easily. So far, my slate was clean and I didn't want to dirty it, even if it was Connar.

I shook my head, looking at the blood longingly before tearing my eyes away from it. "What if it has vervain in it?" I asked. I wasn't really sure how you could inject vervain in a sealed blood bag, unless they took the blood from someone who already had vervain in their system, but I wasn't about to find out the hard way.

Damon sighed, his eyes telling my I had a point before he nodded to it. "Let me see it." I picked up the bag, struggling to not grip it too tightly and passed it on to Damon. He opened it and brought the tube to his lips, the red liquid going up it slowly, almost tantalizingly, and into his mouth. He pulled it away after a second and held it back out to me. "It's clean." I wanted to take it from him, wanted to drink all of it and be selfish. God knows I'm the most selfish person on the planet when it comes to him. But this wasn't a need to kiss or need to shove him against the wall, this was survival. I didn't want to be selfish with the blood, didn't want all of it.

Clenching my hands into fists, I shook my head. "You should have some of it first." He looked worse off than I did. His usual pale skin seemed a deathly shade of white and there were dark shadows under his eyes. I wandered how he wasn't guzzling the blood down right that moment like I was so tempted to do.

"Elena, don't be stupid." he said, eyes gleaming with annoyance. He still didn't retreat his hand and I pressed myself further into the wall. Damn him and his stupid need to protect me, why couldn't he just accept my concern for him?

Taking a deep breath and forcing the bloodlust away, I straightened up and pushed my hair behind my ear. "I'm not. You drink half of it, and I'll drink the other half."

He looked like he wanted to refuse me, and I wouldn't have been the least surprised if he had just thrown the bag at my face until I lost the tiny fragment of control I had conjured up. He must have known that he was in a bad state though, because after a moment, he brought his hand back in and put the tube between his lips. I watched the blood drain from the bag slowly until the remainder of it lay somewhere near the middle of the hospital lable and he tore his mouth away. For a moment, I was distracted by his tongue reaching out and licking away a drop of blood on his bottom lip before his voice surfaced through the daze. "Here." he said, hand sticking back through the bars. Finally, I allowed myself off the wall and not soon enough the bag was back in my hand and the tube was in my mouth. Too thirsty to care about savoring it, the blood was gone all too soon.

"Thanks." I said softly, not really sure why I was thanking him. I heard the cot's mattress creak under his weight as he sat down on it, skin back to it's regular pallor.

"You don't have to thank me." he said, closing his eyes and leaning back. I sighed and sank back against the cement wall, resting my head on the hardness of it and closing my eyes in sync with his. The silence weighed on me, and soon enough those inevietable questions were flitting through my head. I thought back to Stefan and Caroline and Jeremy and Bonnie, wondering if they knew where we were and if they were plotting a way to rescue us. Did they even know where we were? I didn't even know where we were. The room was windowless, the only light source coming from a single, hanging lightbulb on Damon's side of the room. I had no idea where Connar lived and I doubted that he was keeping us in his home anyways. I didn't even know _why _were here. I had no idea how long we had been out for or if it was night or day. Looking down at my wrist, I really wished I had taken to wearing a watch like Jeremy.

I heard something shift and I opened my eyes, seeing Damon eye me from the bed. He seemed to know what I was thinking, because soon he was standing up and walking to sit as close as he could get to the bars. I shifted over so I was closer and we both leaned against them, the barrier between us not allowing any room for touch.

"Stefan will come for us. You know how much he hates passing up the opportunity to be the white knight." He said, a corner of his mouth lifting up into an almost smile. Something inside me softened as I realized that he was trying to distract me and I matched his smile with my own and leaned my head against the bars, wishing for the millionth time that they weren't there.

I scoffed softly and rolled my eyes at his typical dig at his brother. "Yeah, I guess he does." Looking up at him and into crystalline blue, I found reassurance somewhere in those unfathomable eyes of his, and felt some of the turmoil battling inside me chip and fade away. When his fingers brushed mine through the bars, I knew that being stuck here, with Damon, was probably the worse possible thing that could ever happen.

* * *

_**A/N: Hi guys. I know I shouldn't be starting a new fic while I still have an unfinished one, but I couldn't resist. I got this idea when I was rewatching season 3 of Lost, when Kate and Sawyer are stuck in those cages. If you've seen it, you probably know where I'm going with this. It's only going to be three chapters long. Update will probably be in the next few days, I don't plan on stretching it out, possible four chapters. This is set near the end of Season 4. Thanks for reading and enjoy! :) **_


	2. it's all dangerous

**_"When you start to live outside youself, it's all dangerous." -_Ernest Hemingway, _The Garden of Eden_**

_gradually, then suddenly_

"Stop staring at me."

Damon's mumbled words jolted me out my thoughts, and I blinked, momentarily confused at them. "Huh?"

Without looking away from the ceiling he was staring at from his laid back position on the cot, he remarked, "I know I'm the prettiest thing to look at in this place, but seriously Elena, you're giving me a headache with all your brooding thoughts directed towards me."

Barely acknowledging the latter half of his observation, I scoffed and rested my head back down on the pillow that he had shoved through the bars silently hours earlier. Against my will, I felt a slight blush cover my cheeks at the truth of his words. Blushing as a vampire was an odd thing; instead of feeling your face getting hot, you sort of got the feeling like you had just been doused with something, like a raw egg had been thrown on your face, except on the inside. I buried my face deeper into the moth ball-smelling pillow and hoped Damon was too interested at the cracked ceiling to look over at me.

Truthfully, he _was _the prettiest thing to look at. He always was. Although we had been stuck in this place for what had probably been more than a day, with little to no blood, he still looked so perfectly imperfect that it wasn't fair. His hair fell in his face, the ends curling slightly, probably from the lack of shower and the day's heat that seemed to somehow penetrate the cement walls and enter the room. His arms were behind his head carelessly, as if there was nothing to worry about. There was stubble gracing his face, something I had never seen on him because he was always so well groomed. Why did he have to look so pretty? I knew my hair was matted and tangled, something I hated and almost never let happen. My lips were cracked and dry, my skin pale. It wasn't fair.

"I'm not brooding. _You're _brooding." I corrected, distracting myself from the thoughts that always seemed to plague my mind whenever I was within twenty feet of Damon. Feelings didn't mix well with the physical attraction I had felt for him since day one, I knew that before they were there and I knew it more than ever now. Yes, Stefan was handsome. His smoky green eyes and crooked, boyish smile was probably what had done me in that first day of junior year. When I fell in love with him, I thought him even more handsome and perfect, that first year we were together, the need to kiss him never quite went away. But Damon was something otherworldly. Even when I thought him a monster and didn't trust him, my eyes would inevitably be drawn down to his lips and my traitor mind would wonder what they would feel like on mine. But _now, _with these… feelings I had for him, I found myself memorizing the exact length of his eyelashes of the slope of his nose or the tousle of his hair. Damon was infuriating; but what was more infuriating was how my thoughts always betrayed me every time I looked at him.

Damon huffed, oblivious to my thoughts. "Well, maybe. All that's missing is a bottle of alcohol." He sighed longingly, still not sparing me a glance as he closed his eyes, probably imagining his huge collection of bourbon at home.

The heat sweltered on my skin, and for a moment I wondered if the sun was in the room and I was without my daylight ring. Were vampires supposed to get this hot? I sat up and began to peel the long sleeved shirt I had on over a tank top off, the grace that I had gained as a vampire getting lost and I struggled with it over my head. Finally, I managed to pull it off and while I dropped it on the floor, I felt eyes boring into me. Oh, so now he decides to look at me? Turning towards him, I glared as his eyes wandered down my bare arms and slightly exposed midriff. I pulled it down self-consciously, "What?" I snapped.

"Nothing." He smiled, and looked back up. "But you might not want to undress anymore than that, I think we're being watched." He nodded towards the back corner of the cell, right by the door. There, sat a small black oval attached to the ceiling. I could just make out the silhouette of a small camera behind it, watching us through the screen.

"There's a camera?" I asked, squinting my eyes to look at it better. Then I snapped my head towards him accusingly. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

He shrugged, still not looking away from the ceiling. "Didn't think it was important."

I sighed and looked back at the camera, "Why would he be watching us?" I asked out loud, resting my head wearily against the wall as more confusion coursed through me.

"Because he's psycho. This guy could put Norman Bates to shame." Damon replied bluntly, and rolled his head to look at me. "_And_ maybe he is hoping to catch you undressed."

I ignored his comment and crossed my arms, thinking that maybe Damon was right because not of this made any sense.

* * *

"Elena, wake up."

My dreamless, blissful state was torn away when I became aware of a hand jostling my shoulder. I opened my eyes to meet a pair a blue ones, gazing down at me softly. I smiled at him, mind still stuck somewhere in the sleep state I so desperately clung to.

"He's coming." Damon said, and all too soon the situation I was in washed over me. I shot up and pressed myself against the bars, grabbing Damon's hand before he could retreat it back. The pair of heavy boots that had sounded down the hallway outside stopped in front of our door and finally, we saw Connor's face peering down at us.

"Hello." He greeted, like this was a meet for lunch between acquaintances and we were not being held hostage in a barred room, starved. "Sorry it's taken awhile for me to get down here, but I've been busy."

I clutched my fingers around Damon's tighter, forcing away the impulse to slam against the door until it broke down and run away. The idea wasn't bad… but unfortunately the door looked all but indestructible and would probably break my ribcage if I slammed into it. And then there was Damon, on the opposite side of it and I didn't have a key to open the gate.

"I'm sure you're wondering why you're here. It's quite simply, really. The others will come for you, and when they arrive, I'll burn the place down, with all of you in it." He said bluntly. There was no diabolical laugh, no twirling of an invisible mustache, not even an arrogant smirk that I had gotten so used to seeing adorn Klaus's face whenever he knew he would win. His face was a blank slate, his coffee black eyes looking through us and simultaneously at us. A shiver ran down my spine, and I felt Damon's thumb caress my knuckles softly.

"Sorry about the bars, by the way. But I figured if a chance comes for you to escape, Elena, you wouldn't be able to go without getting him out too. And seeing as only I have the key, that would be impossible."

He finished the last sentence by shoving a blood bag through the door, followed closely by a second one. "Why are you feeding us? Why not starve us?" I asked as they fell to the floor, not tearing my eyes away from them.

"That would be cruel, Elena. Believe what you may, but I am not a cruel person." He said, like it was supposed to make perfect sense. Damon scoffed from through the bars.

"Yea, not cruel. Just a crazy, psychotic religious freak." Damon started, eyeing the cross pendulant Connor wore around his neck. "Tell me. If vampires are such an abomination, then why did _God _create us in the first place?"

Connor turned his eyes towards Damon, looking at him as if noticing he was there for the first time. "God didn't create you. It was a mistake that a witch made ages ago, a mistake that millions of people have paid the price. God has sent me to correct that mistake."

The absolute certainty behind Connor's words sent off warning bells in my head, and a cold, creeping shiver ran through me, like being doused by a bucket of icy water. I turned to exchange a look with Damon, and could see clearly in his pale eyes that his thought process was about the same.

We were both at lost for what to say, and Connor took that chance to turn on his heel. "Oh, and by the way, if your friends don't come in exactly 32 hours, then I'll kill one of you."

With that, he walked away, boots stomping eerily in the silence.

"What a fucking lunatic." Damon started immediately as I stood up to retrieve the blood bags. "Even _Klaus _wasn't that crazy, and that guy could be fucking insane sometimes."

"He actually believes that, Damon. He believes that it's his _job _or something. How could he think that?" I asked him as I shoved one of the bags through the bars and set mine down, too distracted to even care about blood at the moment.

He shook his head. Damon was, for once, at lost for words.

* * *

"What if they don't come?" I asked, interrupting the loaded silence that had eventually fallen between Damon and me after we had both drunk the blood. Damon had abandoned the cot and had taken to sit as close as he could get to me through the bars, while I leaned against them, imagining that it was his shoulder I was touching instead of the cold, rusted metal.

He rolled his eyes towards me, staring at me doubtfully. "They'll come, Elena. Why wouldn't they?" he asked, his tone conveying that he might be asking himself the question instead of me.

I sigh. "Well, of course they _would _come. But what if they don't know where we are? What if that's exactly what Connor wants; for them _not _to find us so he has the excuse to kill one of us?" I ask, the questions flowing out faster than I can blink.

Damon sighs back at me, betraying a hint of annoyance. "Maybe, Elena. How am I supposed to know?"

The words bubble forth before I can stop them. "Because you know everything."

His annoyance quickly turns to a smirk as he looks at me knowingly. "Hah. I knew it. You think I'm a genius." It wasn't a question. He squinted his eyes at me teasingly, "You know I'm always right."

I made a face at him and he grinned, dimples popping up on his cheeks and vintage blue eyes sparkling. Then his expression turned serious. "I don't know, Elena. Maybe he's just bluffing."

"But why would he bluff?" I asked back, unabashedly. I felt like the annoying ten year old who never stopped asking 'Why?' to every answer that someone shot their way, but I couldn't help it. The worry of Stefan not finding us was weighing on my mind and the fear that if they didn't show up, Connor would kill me. Or Damon. The thought alone was enough to send my thoughts into hysterics.

Damon didn't reply to the question. He looked at me straight, eyes locking onto mine seriously. Blue on brown, the most perfect combination of colors. "Stefan will come. You've never dropped faith in him before, so don't start now."

I wanted to trust him so badly. But the very very tiny, barely there twinge of uncertainty in his eyes and voice wormed its way into my chest. If _Damon _was unsure about something, then it must be impossible.

* * *

_**A/N: Whoa. That chapter seriously flowed right out, something that hasn't happened to me in a very long time.**_

_**So I think there will be four chapters all together. Possibly three if I can somehow fit all that's left in the next chapter stylishly, without it looking rushed. Probably not, though.**_

_**And of course, THANK YOU for all the story alerts and favorites stories I got. They blew me away, seriously. And even more to the people who reviewed, you guys are amazing. So keep it up and maybe I'll write just a bit more faster! :)**_


	3. one place to another

**_"Remember everything is right until it's wrong. You'll know when it's wrong." _-Ernest Hemingway, _The Garden of Eden_**

**_"You can't get away from yourself by moving from one place to another." -_Ernest Hemingway, _The Sun Also Rises_**

* * *

_gradually, then suddenly_

I watch Damon from across the room, waiting for his eyes to open. His breathing pattern told me he was only feigning sleep at the moment, something I wondered if he was doing just to avoid talking to me.

The comfortable, companionable silence that had fallen between us had slowly but surely turned heavy. The possible impend of death and not being rescued had been pushed down and replaced with something more familiar, something that we knew by heart. Unspoken words.

He was back on the cot, sitting on it with his back against the wall, the scratchy blanket scrunched up beneath him. I had scooted back until I was directly against the wall facing him, farthest away from the camera so, at most, it would only be able to see the side of me. There was something unnerving about knowing you were being watched, knowing that every move you made was being observed and closely looked at. I didn't know why Connor felt the need to watch us; the only guess I had was so he could see if we were planning on escaping. And with the four, cement walls closed in on us, I didn't see how it was possible. We were trapped.

Pushing away the dreading thoughts, I tentatively called out "Damon."

"Hmm?" he mumbled, his fists briefly clenching around the blanket. There were a lot of things on my mind; a lot of things I wanted so desperately to bring up with him, the fear that I never would get to say them and he would never know with the possibility; no, _imminent _death that hung over our heads.

_You just have to hear it once. I just have to say it._

But, since I've always been a coward when it comes to anything related to Damon, I settled on an easier topic. "Why'd you go?"

I realized a second too late that it was too vague. Damon's eyes snapped open and he raised an eyebrow, confused. The words seemed jumbled in my head, twisting and turning with the things I wanted to say and the things I couldn't say out loud, the things the _needed _to be said and the things that scared me shitless to say.

I cleared my throat and cleared my head, focusing on the leaking pipe once more. "Last month, you were gone for a week. Why'd you go?"

A sigh rang loud and clear in the space between us, so dramatically-Damon that I could practically guess what he said before he said it. "I knew this was coming." He started, leaning his head and closing his eyes again. "This is the part where we clear the air between us, and then once we get out of here, you run back to Stefan with a smile on your face because you think we have some new kind of _understanding." _He finished, lolling his head to look at her. "Am I wrong?"

I blinked at his careless speech, annoyance rising up inside me at his assumptions, although something whispered inside my head _He's right. That's what you always do; run back to Stefan. _ No, I won't just run back to Stefan. Well, I mean, I _will_, but it's not like I don't have a right to. Nothing has happened between Damon and I; at least, not yet. _Not yet? _No, nothing_ will_ happen between me and Damon in here. Except, maybe our deaths.

That last sentiment opened my mouth again.

"I don't think we are going to get out of here." I sighed, looking longingly at the door, wishing I could ask the camera to open it and then it would mysteriously creek open slowly like in Caroline's favorite Halle Berry movie, _Gothika. _It was true, though. Even if(_when) _Stefan and the others come, it was still a trap, something that only me, Damon and Connor were privy to. And… if they didn't, then Connor would kill one of us, and either way I couldn't see how one or all of us would survive this, unless somehow they knew that it was a trap and managed to rescue us before the remaining 24 hours were up. A part of me, the part that had survived the tomb vampires and Katherine and Klaus's sacrifice and Rebekah and then Klaus's fury again, _that _part of me insisted that I would get through this, that _we _could and would get through this by some lucky turn of events. But the other part, the part that told me my borrowed time was quickly coming to an end, insisted that my luck had run out. I wasn't sure which part was more convincing.

"Don't say that, Elena." Damon snapped, interrupting my musings with his sharp voice. "I swear to God if Stefan decides that he won't play hero this one time, I will forever haunt him in the afterlife." He remarked, looking totally and one hundred percent serious. I didn't doubt him.

"Damon…" I started, knowing that what I was about to say to him wasn't the best idea. "If he kills one of us, it'll probably be me."

He blinked at me, looking like he was momentarily confused by my words. I quickly went on, "I mean, I'm right by the door… if he killed you he'd have to come in here, walk past me and open the bars, _then _somehow manage to kill you while I'm still in here." I finished, shaking my head. "He'd have to know that I wouldn't let him do that… so wouldn't it just be easier for him to kill me instead?"

A million emotions must have passed in his eyes, but the one he settled on was anger. He shot up and gripped the bars between his hands, eyes blazing. "_No, _Elena. I won't let him anywhere near you." he promised heatedly, the passion and fire I had gotten so used to seeing on him at times clearly on his face.

_You won't have a choice, _I wanted to say. But I kept my mouth shut, and either way, Damon seemed to have read my mind. He started pacing, fists clenching and unclenching, eyes darting around as if looking for a secret window that we could jump out of. I recognized the look on his face easily enough.

"_Damon. _Calm down, please." I pleaded, standing up to move by the bars.

"Why?" he snapped back, "Nothing for me to _lash out _at in here. Just a very big bump, though."

I glared at him, regretting ever saying that because of the amount of times he's flung it back in my face. Not sure how to reply to that, I sunk down by the bars again, thinking thankfully that he _was _right, there was nothing for him to lash out at.

He paced for awhile more, and I could see that he was trying to plan in his head, one of the plans that had gotten us out of sticky situations so many times before, the plans that I'd have probably been dead long before if not for them. But each time, his face would fall and I could tell all of them had failed mentally. Eventually, he sighed and I watched him sink down next to me. We both sat there, legs crossed and facing each other, the bars the only divider between us.

After an endless moment of silence, he spoke again, quietly this time, voice missing the fire from earlier. "I left because you looked at me."

I blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Huh?"

"You're question earlier, about why I left." He explained, and understanding dawned on me. "It was at the Miss Mystic Falls pageant. You danced with Stefan and Matt the whole time, but each time you would look at me over their shoulders. And you never looked away. It annoyed me, and I was drunk and… you know how I get. I didn't think, I just got in my car and left."

He spoke slowly, looking at the wall behind me, eyes far away. The night a month earlier vividly popped in my head; dancing with Stefan at the Lockwood's house, watching Damon drink at the bar, thinking of how it felt to be in his arms for the first time the night Stefan killed Amber Bradley. Wishing I was in Damon's arms instead of Stefan's. Feeling guilty about wishing it. Dancing with Matt and looking for Damon once again, only to discover he was nowhere in sight.

The denial was fresh on my lips, but the honesty of my own thoughts kept me from saying it. I rested my chin on my hand and looked at Damon, my mind still somewhere in between the present and that week where everything seemed to go wrong. I already had the lock and key, ready to store away what was bubbling on my lips to tell him, but there was something about the moment that felt right; something that prevented me from feeling guilty and made it ok. So hesitantly, I opened my mouth.

"I waited up for you." I started, and my eyes suddenly found that damn leaking pipe very interesting once more. "That night, I waited for you to come home. In Stefan's bed-"I could see his eyes narrowing from my periphery. "I listened, waiting to hear the door open for you to stumble in-" Deep breath. "But you never did. I thought… I thought you left me. For good. And I got really scared." My voice breaks at the last word, and the leaking pipe is the most interesting thing I've ever seen in my life. My eyes are burning, feeling from that week when I was terrified that I had lost someone else. I held them unblinkingly open, knowing that if I shut them a tear would betray me.

"Elena-" he whispers, and finally I get the courage to look up at him. His eyes are soft, and somewhere floating in those cerulean depths I see confusion, too.

"But you came back."

"I did." He replies, and he sounds disappointed, like he's disappointed in himself.

The air snaps, crackles and pops, and I can only imagine what would happen if those bars weren't in between us.

As if reading my mind, Damon suddenly turns to me. "Maybe we can get these bars open, that way if he does come in here, I can come over on that side and kick his sorry ass."

I study the bars in front of me, noting that they're almost the size of my forearms.

"Damon, they're pretty thick. Do you really think he'd make it that easy for us?" I ask the obvious question. Damon narrows his eyes at me, a wicker somewhere in them lighting up.

"You're probably right, Elena. I'm sure he hired a vampire, had them come in here willingly and try to bend the bars themselves to see how indestructible they are." He quirks an eyebrow up at me. "They're rusted and old, Elena. I'm sure they'll break if we both try,"

Something uncomfortable was churning in me at the idea, something that had to do with Damon being on this side of the cell and precisely in the way of Connor's plans for what I had guessed would be my death.

At my silence, Damon glares at me. "Do you not _want _to survive, Elena? 'Cause it kind of seems that way to me."

I match his glare with my own, and sparks fly at the too familiar territory between us. "Of course I do, Damon. But obviously he's not stupid enough to walk in here, so why does it matter who's on this side?"

"It matters because it means he might kill me instead of you." He replies bluntly. I want to feel surprised at the sentiment, but it's such a typically typical Damon confession that really, it only throws me off guard for a moment. I should have known that's where he was going with this. Him instead of me. When it came down to it, Damon was always willing to do anything in his power to save me. And now I knew he'd rather him die than me. But I couldn't let it happen. The thought of the world without Damon seemed unbearable, even if I wasn't in it. I thought of Stefan, of how much he loved his brother, and how much I knew losing him would kill him. What would the earth do without Damon; Damon with his eyes identical to the brilliant blue skies and all the passion and fire that equaled all the volcanoes combined? Surely, without Damon, the world would be an endless gray, bland array of nothingness.

"It matters because I can't let you die for me." I say, struggling with the emotions that coursed through me repeatedly. Damon blinks at me, unfazed.

"So, what, you'd die for _me_?" he asks the question like it's the craziest notion he's ever heard in his long life. I don't blame him for thinking it, I haven't exactly encouraged otherwise in the past. But it hurts, it burns that he thinks that I couldn't give two shits about him.

I swallow it down and look away, the answer evident in my silence. Damon is quiet for a moment, and when I look back up at him, his eyes are a combination of shock and tenderness. Then they harden with determination, and I know I haven't won. Not even close.

His hands come up to clutch the bars. "We're getting these open." He says, and I can do nothing but nod, like a disciplined child who has no choice in the matter when their parents tell them to go to their room.

I line my hands up with his around the rusted metal, and we pull.

* * *

_**A/N: Hi. So, as you can see, this chapter has gotten a bit heavier. Wait till you see the next chapter, which will be the last, unless…. Well, unless I can't fit the rest in. I'm telling you now that this story won't end perfectectly happily ever after, just with Elena leaning in the direction of Damon. Because honestly, fics where Elena and Damon skip off happily into the sunset are just not realistic. I used to think so, but the show has been really changing my opinion on that and although logically, Damon and Elena belong together, the producers are Stelena fans and it'll never happen. BUT that doesn't mean they can't have some very awesome scenes once in awhile (cough cough ep.2…. and the upcoming much anticipated ep.4) Yep, I'm a spoiler junkie.**_

_**SO ANYWAYS, I hope you guys liked this chapter :) I'm really excited to write the next one, I'm sure you can guess why if you've seen season 3 of LOST. Thanks sooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooo much for all the story-alerts and added story favorites and of course the reviews. I was going to reply to some of them but pretty much all of them said the same…. But know that I really appreciate them. So keep 'em coming and the next chapter will be up very soon! :)**_


	4. clear and bright

**_" 'How did you go bankrupt?' _**

**_ 'Two ways. Gradually, then suddenly.' " -_Ernest Hemingway, _The Sun Also Rises_**

**_"The world was not wheeling anymore. It was just very clear and bright and inclined to blur at the edges." -_Ernest Hemingway_, __The Sun Also Rises_**

_gradually, then suddenly_

I held my hands up in front of my face, watching as the red rawness on them faded away to smooth, unblemished skin, and thought that I'll probably never get used to that. Damon stood in front of me, still on the other side of the bars, surveying the gap we managed to create in the past two hours.

"It just needs to be a bit more wide, I think." he mused. I mocked his movements as I looked at the unnatural space in between the two bars we chose to pull, and then up his broad shoulders doubtfully.

"Just a bit." I said, feeling hopeless. Damon turned his glance to me, pale eyes roaming up and down my body. I felt that dousing sensation in my cheeks again, and knew that I was blushing under his gaze. I crossed my arms, trying to look indignant. "What?" I demanded.

He half smiled. "_You _might be able to fit through here, after a little more pulling."

He didn't stop his wandering eyes still, and I had a sense he was doing it just to annoy me.

"Yeah, maybe." I sighed, turning away and walking over to the door to look out of the tiny barred window. The darkened corridor was empty, and I immediately spied a door at the end of it. That door, too, had a lock on it. But it looked flimsier than the one in front of me and I knew straight away that it wouldn't be difficult to break with a twist of my wrist.

I wasn't really sure why I was internally planning. Maybe I had been spending too much time with Damon.

_That _was the understatement of the year.

Speaking of, I still felt his eyes on me as I feigned being distracted by the door. It was strange, since he had mostly taken to looking at the ceiling or wall instead of me practically the whole time we've been in here. Now it was like he couldn't take his eyes off me. I was suddenly all too aware of how grungy I looked; yearning shot up through me at the thought of a hot shower. And clean clothes. And blood. Oh, blood.

"Elena." He sang-song, like he was calling me up on a Saturday morning to chat. I turned around to face him and raised an eyebrow. He gestured towards the bars and I sighed, walking back up to them and gripped them once more, feeling the scratchy rust scrape my palms. He shot me a reassuring smile before he settled his hands next to mine and we started pulling.

"You'd think," Damon started, huffing as he pulled. "That since we're _vampires_, with super strength, we'd be able to punch through these damn things. But no," he sighed. "Being a vampire is _vastly _overrated."

I smiled at his attempt to lighten the mood and looked up at him as I kept trying to fruitlessly bend the metal. He rolled his eyes at me, and for a moment, things were okay.

* * *

Two more hours later, we had the thick bars wide enough so that I could fit most of my body though it, if I was turned sideways. But my hipbones were too wide and I always halted right before I was able to make the final descent to the other side. Damon made a lame jibe about how I should have cut back on the ice cream in the Stefan-less days and I shot back that he was usually the one who bought me the ice cream. The countless drives to Cold Stone that we embarked on in the summer, all the way to Richmond were proof enough of that.

"Just a bit more." Damon repeated his words from earlier, and this time I just nodded. I wondered how many hours we had left, and briefly wished I had been keeping track of time instead of busying my eyes with watching Damon's knuckles turn white and his arms flex at the force he exerted on the bars.

Remember that thing I said at the beginning, something about how being stuck in here with Damon was the worst thing that could ever(_ever) _happen? Well, yeah. Times triple.

As if he could read my mind, he turned to look at me, eyes soft. "Elena. We _will _get out of this." He put his hand through the widened bars and brushed the hair away from my face tenderly before retreating it back. My skin burns where his fingers brushed against it. And his eyes are so blue, like the sky on those warm summer days when me and Jeremy and my parents would go to the park and have picnics, eating my Mom's famous potato salad and apple pie… And his hair is in his face, it's almost _curly…_ and his expression is so earnest… and, wait. God Dammit.

I'm gushing over my boyfriend's brother. Stefan! When was the last time I've thought about him, other than when thinking of being rescued? I haven't. At the sudden thought of his green eyes and understanding smile, a twinge of guilt rises in me. This sucks.

I look up at Damon and realize that he's looking at me curiously. I try to smile reassuringly at him, but it comes out as more of a grimace. Before I can say anything, we once again hear those heavy boots striding down the hall towards us. Immediately, I go to stand directly in front of the gap we created so that I'm blocking it from view. I know it's probably pointless; if Connor had been watching the camera then he'd already know about it.

We see his black face through the barred window and he shoves another blood bag through it, just one this time. The sound it makes as it hits the floor makes my gums itch and mouth water, but to my surprise, my face remains normal. Connor is watching me closely, observing me like a frog on a lab table. When he's sure I won't vamp out, he turns his eyes down to the bulky black watch around his wrist. "You have fifteen hours left. Let's hope your friends make it by then… or not. It doesn't matter much to me anymore; I already have the White Oak stake." He says, voice devoid of emotion. "I just need to stake the remaining Originals, and everything will be over." He finishes, sounding like he's talking more to himself than us. At that, he gives us a last glance and walks off. Damon and I wait until his footsteps die away before we turn to each other.

Damon's eyes are grim, but he sighs at me like it's no real surprise to him. "Nothing more dangerous than a holy man on a mission." he mutters, and I mumble an agreement while I pick the blood bag up. Immediately I hand it over to him.

"Maybe you should drink all of it." He suggests, not taking it from my hand. "The door _is _on your side."

I look down at the swirling red liquid under the plastic and then back up to him. The vampire inside of me is begging me to take him up on his offer and sink my fangs into the plastic, but the human part refuses and needs him to have some too. I shake my head at him, and he sighs.

"Elena, I'm serious this time. You're still a baby vamp and you need it more than I do." He replies, leaning against the wall and cocking his head at me in a way that says 'I'm older. I know better.'

"Damon-"

"_Elena_," he interrupts in a mocking voice. "Just drink the damn blood. I know you want to."

He's right. I do want to. I shoot him one more withering glare before I look back down at the bag, and finally let my face change. I'm acutely aware of his eyes on me, but pretending like he's not here; I rip it open and latch my mouth on it. It tastes like heaven.

When I look up he's still staring at me, eyes darkened slightly. It sends a flutter down my chest and to my toes, but I brush it off and throw the empty bag on the ground. "Thanks." I tell him as I wipe my mouth. He shrugs and we stare at opposite sides of the room, purposely avoiding each other's eyes. Suddenly, I'm all too aware of the fact that we only have fifteen hours left. I walk deftly back up to the bars and grip my hands around them again, feeling stronger from the blood. A moment later, Damon follows suit.

* * *

Another two hours later, the gap is officially big enough for me to fit through. Except Damon doesn't know it, and I'm not sure I want him to. Of course I want to be on the same side of him; I want to feel his arms around me and his hand in my hair. That's not the part I'm afraid of. As the hours tick by, almost unnaturally fast, Damon's eyes burn brighter. I know he doesn't believe his own words, not really. The chances of us getting out of here alive are slim to none, and even if we do, Connie still has the White Oak stake. Each direction on this split road seems to lead to our eventual death.

He's starting to look at me differently, and he hasn't made one single sarcastic comment for hours. The part of me that has always been afraid of Damon's overwhelming passion is keeping my feet firmly glued on my side of the cell, but my heart urging me forward, and I'm not sure how long I'll be able to resist it. And him.

I want to grimace when Damon leans back to study the hole. His eyes inevitably wander up to me and then back again to the hole. "It's big enough." He declares solidly, looking up at me and past my insecurities. I swallow down the anticipation that's building inside of me like a brick wall and nod in agreement.

His eyes soften, and then burn impossible brighter into mine. Then he sticks his hand through the gap and out to me, silently asking my permission. Something in his eyes knows, like he thinks I won't take it.

But I'm tired of being afraid. And I'm tired of denying myself this.

There should be a million people I should be feeling guilty in spite of just at the mere thought of doing this, but right now I can't think of one.

So I take his hand.

He looks surprised, to say at least. I watch it subside a moment later and then he's pulling me though the gap and I'm in his arms. One look. That's all that exchanges between us before we both lean in and then we're kissing.

It doesn't matter that I'm dirty and haven't had a shower in days and my hair is greasy. It doesn't matter that our deaths are quickly approaching and it doesn't matter that there's a camera watching us in the corner. All that matters is his sweet breath blowing into my mouth and that this is happening. Finally.

Our kiss deepens as his hands wander over my backside, and soon he's hoisting me up. My legs automatically wrap around his waist and I breathe heavily into his mouth at the feeling of his body pressed fully against mine. I can feel his hardness pressing into me and I rub against him, the move shooting blinding pleasure up my spine. Our moans are muffled against each other mouths and suddenly I feel the cold wall against my back. How do we always end up in this position?

His mouth moves to my neck as pushes my shirt up, hands caressing my bare skin until he pulls it over my head and it falls at his feet. Our lips eagerly lock back together and I thank the stars that his shirt is a button down. Not that it would matter. It rips easily under my hands and I run my fingers down his chest, the way I've imagined doing countless times. He shimmies me out of my jeans easily while I fumble with his belt buckle. A sigh of frustration leaves my swollen lips and he smiles before reaching down to help me.

When all of our clothes are in a heap on the ground, I wrap my legs tighter around his waist and kiss him like I've wanted to do for months. It's Denver and the blood sharing combined with something else, something sweeter. His hair is soft under my fingers and lips bruising against mine, and his hands are everywhere. When his tongue is wet against my throat I get impatient and I push my forehead against his. God, his eyelashes are so long.

He reads the message in my eyes and he pushes inside me slowly. The feeling is indescribable. I feel whole, I feel complete. When he enters me to the hilt, I gasp, my breathing erratic. Damon's eyes flutter and his lips part and then they're back on mine and we kiss very softly.

"Elena-"he starts softly.

"I know." I mumble against his mouth. "I know, Damon."

When he starts moving, slowly at first, something snaps inside me and I push us back until he falls on the cot with me straddling him. His head falls back against the wall as I trail my lips down his neck while I'm still moving, and I breathe heavily against his skin at the overwhelming pleasure running through me.

When I look up at him, still unable to control my breathing, I'm consumed with feeling. His eyes are half closed, the cerulean orbs staring up at me, never once leaving my face. He's so beautiful. God, I love him. Wait, love? Yes, love. I love him. I love Damon Sal-

Before I can finish the thought process, he somehow manages to flip us over on the tiny bed and he slows the pace down, hitching my legs further up and hitting the deepest angle possible. Where are those sounds coming from? There's no way they're coming from my mouth.

I bury one hand in his hair and let the other grip his moving waist while he kisses me again, our moans and groans mixing into one.

"Damon," I manage. "I love you."

His eyes snap open, and he stares at me in disbelief. I smile at him and touch his face, willing him with my eyes to believe me. I can't tell if he does or not, but either way he pushes his sweaty forehead against mine and mumbles back, "I love you."

We come together like that, the silent promise hanging in the air. Damon collapses on top of me, our legs tiredly intertwined and he rests his head on my naked chest, his breathing slowly returning to normal. Neither of us want to think. For right now, we're content.

* * *

Stefan's worry was going to consume him. He didn't know where Elena was, where Damon was, and now, he didn't know where Caroline was either. When they had both come in here, with the intent of finding Damon and Elena and killing Connor, she had went down one corridor and him the other. And now he was regretting it.

He still couldn't believe it had taken them this long to find them. For all he knew, they could be dead. He had to practically throw Jeremy out of the car when he insisted he come along. _It's my sister _he had exclaimed. Stefan understood, really, he did. But if something happened to Elena's little brother she would never forgive him. Well, she probably would eventually. But that wasn't the point.

He listened closely to everything around him, searching for Caroline's breathing or footsteps. But all he heard were mice scurrying in the walls and the pipes running. He turned a corner in the corridor he was in and immediately spotted an open door, with a glare of light reflecting in it.

When he was sure that there was no one in it, he hesitantly stepped in slowly. It was a mostly ordinary room. There was a heavy oak desk taking up most of the space with an outdated computer sitting on it. But it was what was on the computer screen that made him freeze. He immediately recognized his brother's tousle of black hair and Elena's face… They were twined together on a bed. Naked.

Stefan didn't know what to think.

But at least he knows where they are now.

* * *

_**A/n: BAM! Thats Dramatic Irony for ya. My english teacher would be proud.**_

_**Sorry for the delay. I have this problem where I can only write if I'm the only one in the house, and this whole weekend my roommates decided to hang around. It was really frustrating. **_

_**Obviously there will be another chapter left. I'm kind of making up there rescue plan as I go along… All I knew was that I wanted Stefan to see the camera (That was the whole purpose of it). And so he did.**_

_**I hope this was satisfying. I tried to make it how I saw it in my head, but I'm afraid it didn't quite match up. I was still pretty pleased with it though. I wanted Damon and Elena to talk a little more about things, but I couldn't fit it in quite right. **_

_**Thanks so much for all the reviews and everything else. They seriously make my day when I get them; I'll try to reply to a few of them.**_

_**Well, I can't really think of anything else to say although I'm sure I will later. So I'll see you next chapter! :)**_


	5. infidel

_**"She was sitting up now. My arm was around her and she was leaning back against me, and we were quite calm. She was looking into my eyes with that way she had of looking that made you wonder whether she really saw out of her own eyes. They would look on and on after every one else's eyes in the world would have stopped looking. She looked as though there were nothing on earth she would not look at like that, and really she was afraid of so many things," **_**-Ernest Hemingway, _The Sun Also Rises_**

**_"Infidel to die for  
What i am doing will happen in the morning  
When the mirror won't recognize me" _-Metric, _The Twist_**

* * *

_gradually, then suddely_

The clock was ticking. Metaphorically, of course. Physically, there was no clock present in the cell we occupied, although in that moment, I desperately wished there was. But _metaphorically, _I could hear the clicking of a clock sounding somewhere in my head, or, maybe I didn't. But it seems rather appropriate, given our situation.

From Damon's breathing, he was asleep from where he lay next to me, our limbs still intertwined lazily. I barely moved a muscle, fearing that the slightest movement would disturb him. One of us should at least get some sleep. Although vampires can technically go without sleep for a lot longer than humans, I could still feel the exhausting weighing on me like a sack of bricks. Every time I closed my eyes, I thought about how much time remained from Connor's 'diabolical' plan. How could I waste time sleeping when our deaths could possibly be quickly approaching?

I took to watching Damon instead. He's so pretty when he's sleeping, more so than when he's awake. He looks like a boy, an innocent, human boy that I could imagine him being back before he met Katherine and got introduced to a world of darkness and manipulation. If there's one thing I'm jealous of Katherine of, it's the fact that she got to see both brothers when they were human. And then she ruined it. Yeah, I'm not jealous of that part.

I know that I should be feeling guilty. Hell, you can imagine how surprised I was when the sickening waves of guilt _didn't _hit me right after Damon rolled off me. And I know it's there somewhere, and I know it won't stay absent for long, but for right now, it's nice. For once, I can actually just be with Damon and not be thinking of how much I'm betraying Stefan. But hasn't it always been like that? Even the most innocent of acts spent with the older Salvatore, like eating breakfast or watching TV, would always berate my self-conscious. _You should be doing this with Stefan, _I would always inevitably think to myself. But those moments, the moments before Stefan would pop up in my mind, like I had somehow forgotten him in a few short hours, were always the best times with Damon. Like now.

Taking a deep breath, I quickly curse the action when Damon almost immediately starts stirring. Vampires are light sleepers. He stirs for a moment longer before his eyes blink open, the pale blue looking around like he'd forgotten where he was. Eventually, they land on me, and he almost looks shocked to see me here. I watch as the memory of hours previously set in his eyes, the memory of his hands on me(_everywhere_) and our eyes locking the whole time(never looking away) and my toes digging into his back as he-

Okay, I _really _need to stop. If I keep these thoughts up, I already know what we'll be doing during our last remaining hours.

He's staring at me curiously, probably wondering why I'm not jumping up and avoiding his eyes and doing all the things that I always do when _some_thing happens between us. I hold his eyes steadily, something inside my chest twitching uncomfortably because I kind of feel like I'm promising him something. Which, yeah, kind of. Then a twinge of surprise sets in his eyes, and I wonder why he always looks so shocked whenever I don't run away from him.

Oh, yeah.

A lock of black hair falls in his face and I mindlessly push it away, and while my hand is still in his hair he leans in and kisses me again. I kiss him back instantly because, well, I can't _not. _I love him, remember? And when his tongue slips into my mouth and his hands wander down my body, I think that _maybe _that isn't a bad thing.

It's quicker than the first time, more frenzied. There's a moment where I completely forget how small the cot is and push him over, only to send us tumbling to the floor in a tangle of limbs and lips. If Connor is watching us, it probably all looks rather ridiculous. Damon and I hardly care. We laugh like children and lock our lips once more and it doesn't matter that we're having sex on the cold, cement floor.

Nothing matters.

* * *

An hour later we're both collecting our scattered clothes from the ground and slipping them on, Damon buttoning the remaining buttons that I managed to not rip off. We smile at each other at the memory, but they're quickly wiped off our faces when we hear the footsteps echo down the hallway. I hurry to quickly shove my jeans up my legs, and Connor's face appears in the window just as I'm buttoning them. Connor eyes study our clothes which no longer fit right to Damon's sex hair and my still swollen lips. His lips curl in disgust and he looks away.

"Vampires." he scoffs, "All you guys care about is sex and blood, I swear." He doesn't even seem to mind the gaping hole in the bars like I expected. In fact, he barely seems to notice it.

Damon and I exchange a glance, and Damon's mouth tips up into a smirk. "Well, we certaintly gave you a show." he says, nodding up to the camera in the corner. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him slowly inching towards me, so that I'm halfway behind him.

"As if I watch that thing." Connor says absently while digging through his pocket. "Well, your friends haven't arrived yet, and I can't afford to waste anymore time." He says, and finally he pulls his hand out and I narrow my eyes at the black contraption in the shape of a bottle. "This will release vervain gas until you pass out. Once you're unconscious I will stake the two of you. You'll barely feel a thing." He finishes, as if he's doing us a favor. Damon grimaces, and I see his hand reach out for mine. Suddenly, I'm so, so very glad he knows. Knows how I _really _about him, finally. That I love him. I just wish I could make him fully and one hundred percent believe it, because I know he doesn't, not really. Not with all that I've put him through in the last two years.

I can't believe this is how it's ending. After the amount of times I've thought I was going to die, _this _is actually it. By the hands of a religious, close-minded vampire hunter. Talk about going out in style. I wish I could see Jeremy one last time, tell him sorry that's he lost so many people, and that I love him more than anybody. I want to tell Stefan sorry, for not being the girl he fell in love with three years ago, I want to tell him how I wish we could be together and both be completely happy. I want to see Caroline's bright smile and yellow curls and hug her and thank her for being the best friend I needed. I want to tell Bonnie to do whatever makes her happy. Want to tell Matt thank you for always being there.

Connor pulls a string on the bottle and throws it in, and it starts hissing and steaming. A clear fog releases from it and then my throat and lungs and _everything _is on fire. "Stop breathing." I hear Damon say from somewhere, and I do as he says. I feel my skin burning and eyes watering, and I clutch his hand harder. _Just give in_, something inside me says. And I do.

The last thing I see before succumbing to darkness is a pair of dainty, pale hands reaching out and snapping Connor's neck from behind. And then, I _swear _I see Caroline standing there. How is she here?

It's probably my imagination.

* * *

_**A/N: So, so sorry guys. Seriously, I feel so guilty. It's been what... two weeks? **_

_**I wrote this chapter once last week, but I was afraid Elena sounded too unsympathetic, which I have a tendency to write her as for some reason. I wanted alot more in this chapter, and I know it's really short, but I really wanted to update it. Obviously, there will be another chapter. Obviously, I can't end it like this. This fic is alot longer than I planned, but oh well, that's not necessarily a bad thing. I've had alot of fun with it so far. So I hope this chapter isn't too disapointing. Let me know what you think? :)**_


	6. fin

_**A/N: Hi everyone. I know this is like, super duper late, but I've been in New Orleans until Friday, so I finally got around to writing it. It's not very long, but it's the last chapter and I couldn't think of anything that needed to be added to it. That and I just really wanted to update. I wrote and rewrote the ending line dozens of times, and finally this one satisfied me. I hope it satisfies you too :) I can't thank everyone enough for the reviews and story-alerts, story-favorites and author alerts/favorites. They make me smile everytime I get them. I tried to reply to all reviews I got for the last chapter, but for the Guests, I thank you for the incredibily kind things you said, they made my day! And also, I'm sorry if the events that happen in this do not match up to the show's episodes this season. I've only managed to catch a few of them, so I'm not really up to date. Anyways, enjoy the last chapter and tell me what you think. The title of this fic is from **_**The Sun Also Rises, _I think the quote was on the last chapter. I own nothing. _**

* * *

**_"They're only dangerous when they're alone" -_Ernest Hemingway, _The Sun Also Rises_**

**"If the wind rises it can push us against the flood when it comes."  
- Ernest Hemingway, _Islands in the Stream_**

_Gradually, then Suddenly_

Coming into consciousness was an odd thing as a vampire. Whether it's from sleep or, in my case, a vervain-gas induced coma. What a mouthful.

First, sounds slowly start enter my head. I can hear birds chirping outside, branches rustling in the Virginia wind, someone shuffling around downstairs, glasses clinking together, a clock ticking. Then comes scent, the smell of dusty books waft under my nose. I vaguely remember Damon complaining that Stefan is incapable of picking up a bottle of Windex, and the memory brings an unconscious smile to my lips.

I hear someone walk closer, the smell of roses and something sweet telling me that this person was no threat. The bed I'm laying on creaks under me. "Elena?"

My eyes snap open, the floating dust mites temporarily clouding my vision until I blink and see Caroline's face hovering over me. Relief sets into her blue eyes as she realizes that I'm awake.

I struggle to sit up, noting how heavy my body feels. "Caroline? What happened?" I ask, clearing my throat. Looking around, I see the familiar trinkets and oak furniture and realize I'm in Stefan's room.

"We killed Connor. Well, _I _killed Connor." She corrects, and I can tell she's unnerved about it. She looks down at her hands, as if seeing them as someone else's. "Right before he was about to kill you."

Everything comes rushing back at a startlingly pace. The cellar, the camera, the vervain gas bomb. Damon.

_Damon._

I struggle to block out the memories that want to make their way into my head; his skin against mine, his lips bruising my own, sapphire eyes hovering over me. I push them down and promise them that they can come back later, when I'm alone and can think.

"Is…?"

Caroline doesn't need me to finish, she looks at me understandingly. "Damon's fine. He's downstairs with Stefan."

_Stefan._

Shit.

Caroline looks me over, as if she knows exactly what I'm thinking. She smiles at me tightly, "When we carried you out of there, Damon's shirt was missing buttons and the snap on your jeans were gone."

I grimace and look down at what I'm wearing, noticing that I'm in a pair of flannel pajama pants and the white camisole that I leave here just in case. Suddenly I find the embroidery on the curtains behind Caroline very interesting.

"And then there was the camera." She whispers, and my eyes snap to hers, horrified.

"Stefan didn't…?" I trail off, my horror clearly in my voice.

Caroline averts her eyes, "Something like that."

"Oh my god." I groan, burying my face in my hands. Stefan saw me and… he saw Damon and I… with his _brother…_ Oh. God.

Caroline's grimace tells me exactly what she thinks about it. Hell, she's probably more disgusted than I am. "I'm not going to patronize you." She says, and it looks like it takes her a great deal to reach out and touch my arm. "But I thought it better that you find out from me instead of Stefan."

I push a piece of matted hair behind my ear and nod at her thankfully. She cocks her head at me curiously. "So what are you going to do?"

I sigh and push Stefan's covers off of me, and wonder why he put me here in the first place, after what he saw. "The only thing I can do." I answer as I swing my legs off the mattress.

* * *

A shower and a blood bag later, I finally manage the courage to walk downstairs. On my way, I notice Damon's door is closed, meaning he's holed up in there. My feet beg me to take them there, but I force myself to keep walking. He's pit stop two, Stefan is first.

I find Stefan in the study, the bourbon glass in his hand telling me more than it should. The only time Stefan ever drinks is when he's in Ripper mode or when his inner turmoil is caused by something that involves me and Damon.

I hover in the doorway, waiting for him to make the first move. I know it's cowardly, but honestly I didn't think the conversation would come _this _soon. Obviously I knew it would it eventually, but I had expected a few more months of pretending with Stefan.

Hoping that he isn't drunk, I step hesitantly in the room. I've never really been too sure of Drunk Stefan. I was overly used to drunk, distraught Damon. I knew drunk, touchy-feely Damon more than I knew myself. I'd never really been around drunken Stefan much.

I curse myself once again for thinking of Damon too much and clear my throat. Stefan turns around and I hold back a sigh of relief when I see his familiar, thoughtful face. His eyebrows are drawn together and his arms are crossed, and I ignore the pang in my chest when I realize how closed off he is. The guilt, the guilt that I've been waiting and waiting for to hit finally reaches home and I swallow it down like bile, hoping it won't make its way out my chest and onto Damon's prized Persian rug.

"I guess this talk's been delayed for awhile." Stefan says, and I nod in understanding. It certainly has.

"Stefan…"

"You don't need to say it." He interrupts, knuckles turning white around the crystal tumbler. I watch it, expecting it to shatter, just like Stefan's calm demeanor. Then I remember exploding is Damon's thing.

"I saw the camera. I saw you and my brother lying on a bed together, naked. We really don't need to talk about it."

So he didn't see us actually having sex; a small blessing. Shame colors my cheeks anyways, more for the fact that Stefan saw it rather than that I did it.

I nod, agreeing that _that _little chat really does not need to happen. Some things are better left unsaid.

"Stefan… I thought that I'd die in there. We both did. It-"

"Elena, don't. Don't make excuses, we both know it was more than that. It's always been more with him."

I look down, knowing he's right. "I know." I confirm.

He cuts to the chase, looking like he's itching to be anywhere else. "And I can't do this anymore." He says slowly. "I won't."

I let out a long sigh, finally looking up to meet his eyes. "I know." I repeat.

He nods at me and sets his drink down. Walking past me, he pauses by the doorway. "I'm going to go for awhile, I'm sure you can understand why." He says, and gives me a last look. "But I'll be back, eventually."

I nod at him, unable to find words and watch him to walk to the door. When he opens it, I see Caroline standing on the other side, waiting. Jealousy doesn't come like I expect, instead I feel relief. Relief that she'll be there for him; Caroline was always good at that.

When the door closes, the sound echoing in the eerily silent house, my feet carry me over to Stefan's unfinished drink and I down it in a single gulp. The liquid burns through my lungs and gives me courage, slowly but surely.

* * *

Damon is walking out the shower when I let myself into his room, shirt open and hair wet. Typical.

I sit on his bed as he towel dries his hair, looking past me and out the window. It's strange; how nonchalant the air is. If the breakup with Stefan was heavy, I expected this to be even heavier. But things feel easy, light. I don't why I expected any different, things are always easy with Damon. Well, most of the time.

"Stefan left." I say, voice betraying nothing. I feel his eyes turn on me, observing my expression.

"And?" he asks.

"And… Caroline is with him. I think he'll be okay."

Damon grimaces, and I can clearly tell that he didn't want his brother to leave. That's the thing with Damon, when he loves people; he loves them so completely that he'd do anything to keep them, even if it means he won't be involved.

"So did I miss the whole sobbing, tragic break up again? Or was that a different story?" he asks, throwing the now damp towel in a laundry basket. I notice idly that his curls are gone.

"Do you see me sobbing?" I ask, looking forward. I probably _should _be sobbing, I should probably be crying in Jeremy or Matt or Bonnie's arms right now. Instead I feel numb, blank. Lighter. Like a huge weight has been lifted off my chest, like it's hovering somewhere above me instead of directly on top of me. Honestly, it's a relief.

"No, I don't. And that worries me." He replies, bringing his hands up to button his shirt. I stand up and walk over to him, stopping his hands before they can. He stares at me as I step closer, like I'm doing something incredibly strange to him.

"It shouldn't. You should be doing back flips right about now." I say, closing my hands around his.

He narrows his eyes. "Why?"

"Because-" I pause, unable to find words. Instead I close the distance between us and press my lips against his. He freezes for a moment, before he goes lax and starts to move. _This _is what I've wanted since I woke up, his arms around me and his mouth moving against mine. Feeling rushes through me and our kiss becomes frenzied, fingers in hair and suddenly my back is on the thankfully much larger bed. I push his shirt off and he pulls my pants off and this time, it's paced and although not exactly slow, there's a certain feel to it that tells me this will be the first of many were we have all the time in the world. We get lost under the covers as our breath becomes one and our moans make the air stuffy and we both laugh when my legs get constricted in the sheets and the laughs turn into groans when he hits the right spot and we both come like that, together.

He rolls off me, and our labored breath evens out as we stay under the sheets, the opaque cloth filtering the sunlight and creating a surreal glow on our skin. He pulls me into him and we lay there peacefully, the silence of the mid-morning settling over us.

"If I'd know that getting trapped in a room with you would do _this _I'd have gotten caught a long time ago." Damon mumbles, and I feel his smirk against my hair.

"Ugh, how'd I know you'd say that?" I ask, rolling my eyes at his typically-Damon comment. "You couldn't just let us have one sweet moment before you ruined it?" I ask playfully.

"Have you met me?" he asks, hand running over my backside in a mock lewd way. I guffaw at him, slapping his hand away.

I want to slap the smirk off his face, but instead I kiss it away because I can.

_The End?_


End file.
